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Poster: orchiddoctor Date: Nov 21, 2006 5:48am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Dead Head/Prep School Connection

That's a very kind thing to say.

As I said, I was extremely lucky. It would have been just as easy to have grown up in Manhattan and missed it all. Not everyone like the idea of being scruffy, smoking dope, and hanging out on the streets. And I am grateful for those who were already there.

I have a cousin, I guess she's around 62 now, who was a serious folkie in the early sixties. She used to take me down to these little coffee shops/cafes/clubs where we would listen to the constant influx of "new" artists such as this really strange fuzzy headed guy from Minnesota who loved Woody Guthrie a lot. Can't remember his name for the life of me.

As to this Garcia fellow, he seemed to have this great propensity for hanging out on the corner, smoking endless joints, and rapping into the wee hours with anyone who would rap back.

Trivia question: When the Dead were playing downstairs at the Care Au Go Go, who was playing upstaits at the Garrick Theater?

A pack of zig zags to the winner.

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Poster: Earl B. Powell Date: Nov 21, 2006 7:33am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Dead Head/Prep School Connection

Mr Earls best guess would be Frank Zappa, who probably wasn't all that influenced by what was going on downstairs.

I grew up in North Jersey and we would cut school, pay a quarter to ride the bus into the NY Port Authority and then walk down to the Village to see what was up. It was 70 or 71 and the remnants of the "Summer of Love" were on sale at every head shop, record store or poster boutique along Bleeker. Pinback buttons and bumper stickers making way to big of an announcement of who and what you were.

The counterculture was already in the rearview mirror, and the cynicism of the 70's already taking hold. The Village of 5 years earlier was like the sold-out Haight of 69, a tourist mecca.

We learned in High School to keep your stash hidden, drive a plain looking family car and tuck your hair up under your cap. Too many friends busted and sent away for too long. There was a time and a place to let loose, but it was never well advertised. Always a serious cat and mouse game with the authorities. For us, the Village, and especially the East Village was a place to watch each others backs and never, ever get out of control.

Moving on to college in 72 in Upstate NY offered a different pace and atmosphere much more compelling for heads. The smallish towns hosting huge universities were ripe for the kind of anarchy and personal freedoms that we had in mind. The authorities were well outnumbered and seemed like they turned a blind eye to college kids "just having a little fun." Animal House was not a fictional representation of the times.

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Poster: orchiddoctor Date: Nov 21, 2006 10:05am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Dead Head/Prep School Connection

Better send me an address to send those zig zags to!

Yep, Frank Zappa, the house band for the Garrick Theater.

Apt description of the Village post 68-69. The "Summer of Love" thing came around a year later than S.F. Of course, like S.F., it came with Hell's Angels (neighbors to the Fillmore), speed freaks (the dead playing Thompkins Square Park? Whew. Talk about yer junkies). Everybody knowing what everybody was doing but not doing it in the street. Staying clear of the alleyways.

But, still, The Electric Circus where Jimi subbed for Paul Buttefield in the Electric Flag while Clapton sat nearby. And they let you in for free if you were barefoot. Or Dylan hanging out when he still lived on 4th Street. All these icons walking around as if, as if, gasp! they were humans like the rest of us.

By 1969, the first wave was gone, replaced by weekend hippies in denim uniforms, headbands, and beads. Far out.
I confess to being in the latter group. I didn't live in the Village; I came and went when I felt like it. I wasn't exactly a tourist, but I wasn't a foreigner either.

By 1970, yes, cynicism had set in. Not just political cynicism fueled by assasinations, the war, Chicago, and tricky Dicky, but by our sense that somehow we were cooler than everyone else.

Woodstock was not a beginning, it was an end. It was a nasty, muddy experience, trying to hear bands from a sound system too small to be heard, staying up till dawn to hear the airplane or Hendrix (when Jimi came out, ovre half the concertgoers had already left!), trying to avoid the bad acid. Woodstock was a gathering of the tribes that missed the beginning, the accidental moment when forces came together to create something new and original. The bus was overloaded by then.

BUT . . . . it was still great, all of it. Even if we weren't the discoverers, we still had quite an adventure.

Yep--Zappa as a house band.